


Peer Observations

by Waanderlust



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waanderlust/pseuds/Waanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never mind the teaching methods, lesson plans or pedagogy whatnot, trainer Merlin is ogling Teacher!Arthur like a pro. The secret art of perv, oops, peer lesson observations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peer Observations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Candymacaron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candymacaron/gifts), [StarshipInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipInk/gifts).



> Inspired by a particularly dull lesson observation. For Candy and B.- thanks for the brainstorming :) Thanks also to B.(StarshipInk) for the beta :)

Tap, tap, tap.

  
Merlin realised with a start that was _his_ pen making the annoying sound, and switched to spinning it instead, which wasn't the best idea because it spun just once before promptly pirouetting off the table and onto the floor. Damn. He'd better just leave it there so as not to attract any attention to himself.

Actually: so as not to attract any _more_ attention to himself. Despite sitting on the last row, slunk in the corner, next to a group of the noisiest students on the entire class, he was still receiving stares.

He was used to curious students wondering what he was doing, invading their turf, stealing their god-given right to the best seat in the class, and cramping their style by forcing them to flip their laptop screens down. Ah, that was the life of a staff developer who spent hours ensconced at the back of classroom observing lessons and making notes on how the lecturers taught. Merlin was often surprised by students’ creativity in all the ways they could be physically in a class and yet not pay attention. Once, from the back of a lecture theatre,  Merlin had observed a student knitting calmly for an entire two hours while the lecturer gesticulated and spoke animatedly.

Stares from the _lecturer_ he was observing, however, was a whole new thing. Arthur Pendragon, golden boy of Albion University, son of Chancellor Uther Pendragon, god-son of Board of Governor Chairman Giaus, and recipient of the Teacher of the Year (two years in a row no less), glared at him all the way from the front of the cramped tutorial room.

Pendragon Junior was literally the Uni's blue-eyed boy, but those eyes resembled steel more than cornflowers as they fixed on him. Even so, Arthur was drop-dead gorgeous, and Merlin trembled from the full force of that attractive face; turned his way were floppy blond hair, luscious lips and cheekbones to die for that were accentuated when Arthur sucked his cheeks in a show of exasperation. Arthur was SO PRETTY. Merlin stared at the faint pink flush on Arthur’s face and shifted uncomfortably in the plastic grey chair; he willed his heart to beat more normally but, much like the rest of his body, it didn’t seem to be responding. More drastic measures were needed.

Merlin ducked his head and held up a sheaf of papers in front of him, effectively shielding him from Rockstar Teacher Arthur. He could pretend to be consulting the lesson plan, or writing in his observation forms. Now at least Arthur’s charisma was somewhat deflected. Merlin had the sudden image of the Death Star training its tractor beam on hapless planets. He could hear Arthur's crisp voice filling the room, something about integrated circuits and gates and stepping up and down. It was all posh and clipped and authoritative… oh god, did Merlin have to cover his ears as well? Wait. Was the voice getting louder or...?

He peeped over the top of his papers and almost fell off his chair in shock at Arthur standing right in front of him. How had he managed that? Ninja Arthur!

Arthur smirked at him, leaned in and turned Merlin's papers right way up. Merlin's cheeks flamed; way smooth, Emrys. Just the thing to make a good impression as the newest academic staff developer in the Uni. His attempt to act cool was probably ruined by his mouth falling open. Arthur was so close, he imagined he could feel Arthur's body heat and smell his aftershave, a musky, earthy scent. Merlin only had to reach his hand out and say, "hi, I'm Merlin" and they would be touching.

Merlin didn't do that, of course, there was a _class_ going on, dammit! Arthur's class! Where he was supposed to act like a "fly-on-the- the-wall" (hey, that was an actual phrase from scientific research, ok?), and not affect class dynamics. A little like The Prime Direction, only it applied to classes, not new planets of undiscovered alien life forms.

Arthur swivelled, all athletic grace and smooth moves, and walked back to the front. Merlin watched that gorgeous arse wiggle left and right, encased in fine-spun grey trousers that hugged the curve of Arthur's bum and was _just_ snug enough to show off muscular thighs. The pants were probably wool, but might have been lycra as far as Merlin was concerned; his mind went wild imaging Arthur in tights. Good as naked.

When Arthur reached the front of the room, Merlin gave up and dropped his papers on the table. Except it was a tiny and poorly designed arm-rest surface, not a proper table, and his action dislodged all the markers on it. The markers clattered to the floor and rolled cheekily to the middle of the aisle.

Merlin wanted to die. _Just kill me now_. Which fool had suggested Arthur's class was a good one for his very first peer observation? Gwaine, that's the good-looking fool's name. Merlin might have been blinded by that swishy hair. Right now, he feigned innocence and acted as surprised as anyone about *whose* markers were those lying in the middle of nowhere? Who indeed?

Merlin clutched onto the one remaining pen he still had and chewed at it.

For a one hour class, time seemed to move very slowly, yet Merlin didn’t want it to end. Merlin tried not to yawn and arranged his face in a deeply thoughtful, highly professional look that gave out the "yes, I'm interested in what you are saying" message. Rather than the "gods above, you are fine and fit and I'm imagining what colour your pants are and what your chest looks like and basically stripping you naked in my mind" look.

Arthur's long sleeved shirt was open at the collar, and Merlin wished he had binoculars so he could confirm if he'd imagined the dusting of honey-coloured hair disappearing into the vee of that shirt. Arthur seemed a little tired, and unconsciously kneaded his shoulder and rotated it, and Merlin's mind went immediately to how broad those shoulders were.

"For tutorial question 2, this is how you use the figures, " Arthur said, waving at the screen. Merlin ignored the boring figures and stared dreamily at Arthur's side profile. Look at that nose, and the curl of hair on his neckline. He wondered if Arthur was sensitive to fingers in his hair, mmmm. Or, for that matter, fingers in other places.

Merlin’s dick jumped to attention at that thought, and he couldn’t control himself. He bit down hard on the pen he’d been absently chewing, and winced when it cracked. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. All he needed now was to be bleeding in class like some fair maiden. Thankfully the shards had not cut him, and he gingerly removed the splinters and tried to clean his ink-stained hands on his… er.. papers. He couldn’t do anything about the ink on his best white shirt, and crossed his arms awkwardly to hide them instead. Could he feel any _more_ like he was an episode of Mr Bean?

The students next to him regarded him bemusedly. Merlin ignored them, and went right back to perving at Arthur.

While Merlin was making a fool of himself with the pen, Arthur had continued working steadily through the tutorial questions (Merlin had no clue at all what they might be). The pink tinge on Arthur’s cheeks had grown deeper - teaching was hard work -  and he wiped his forehead and rolled up his sleeves. Aha, more skin! Merlin’s cock, somewhat deflated by the distraction of the cracked pen, revived.

Merlin dispensed with the last of his dignity; after all, the class was coming to an end. He craned his neck and tilted crazily to his left, gratified to see muscular forearms emerge. He fancied Arthur saw him leaning to get a better view, but he didn’t care by now.

His skilled balancing act was interrupted by a din of scraping chairs. The students had evidently announced that the class was over, despite Arthur’s frown and shouts. The classroom cleared out in record time; Merlin had only managed to gather his own things and stand up when he realised the room was empty. Empty save for Arthur and himself. He would have slunk out the back door, but Arthur was too fast for him.

“What was your name again?” Arthur was in front of him again, eyeing him up and down in a way that made Merlin shiver. Merlin fidgeted and tried to look natural while covering the ink stain down the front of his shirt.

“Um, Emyrs. I’m the new…”

“...staff trainer, yes Lancelot mentioned you. He didn’t say you were so young,”

“I’m not! I’ve done my M.Ed and everything,” So did almost everyone else in the Uni, including Arthur, what a stupid thing for Merlin to say. Merlin wanted to sink through the floor, wanted to escape out the door, but his body seemed to decide it preferred to come out from the corner and stand right next to Arthur.

"Hmm. Well, we’ll see then, at post-observation discussion then, _Merlin_ ,” Arthur made it sound like _he_ was the observer, when it was Merlin who would be commenting on Arthur’s teaching.

“Wait. How’d you know my name?”

Arthur ignored his question in favour of leaning in closer.  Merlin dropped his paper shield, buffeted by a maelstrom of confused excitement and resignation. Oh fine, let Arthur see how clumsy he’d been, and laugh at him for dirtying himself.

Instead, Arthur put his face right in front of Merlin, his blue eyes impossibly big. His gaze flickered between Merlin’s eyes and his lips, “You’ve got something here…” _Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Arthur was touching his lips, and stroking them._

The thudding of Merlin’s heart eclipsed his gasp. Arthur was rubbing his cupid’s bow now, slowly and sensually swiping the entire top lip before tracing the curve of Merlin’s bottom lip. His thumb felt rough but the action was gentle, and Merlin wanted to melt into his touch and plaster his face, his entire body, onto Arthur.

He was gratified to see that Arthur was looking a little unsteady; although the effect was to make Merlin even more excited. Arthur was breathing hard, his face a rosy bloom. It was just as well Arthur finally pulled away, because Merlin was completely unable to move. Bespelled, that’s what Merlin was.

“You had ink there. And there too,” Arthur nodded at Merlin’s shirt.

“Er, yeah,” Merlin felt they were on safer terrain now. ”It always happens when I… yeah, it happens. Not a good look for my first day at work.”

 “We can’t have that now, can we? I have a spare that might fit you, if you’d like to come by and try it?”

Merlin goggled. “What? Like now? Your shirt?” So much for safer terrain.

Arthur smiled. It lit up his entire face and Merlin had a glimpse of the playful and cheeky personality behind the greek god facade. It was incredibly hot.

“Yes now- it’s lunch hour, after all. Yes _my_ shirt. At _my_ apartment, just nearby,” Arthur’s blue eyes twinkled.

Who in his sane mind would refuse that? Not Merlin, for sure.

Merlin binned his forms on the way out; he had not a single note or recollection of the lesson he’d observed, and the doodles and sketches he’d made of Arthur’s -ahem-assets weren’t fit for public viewing.

****

 

Merlin should have been freezing; he had been dressed for a teaching observation, not for a jaunt to the staff apartments; also, his best work clothes were not exactly warm. It seemed that lusting _did_ considerably heat him up, because he barely felt the chill as he hurried behind Arthur (look at that bum, really now, was that even fair?), venturing into odd corners of the University and ducking through strange doors.  

He actually felt warmer, possibly with the walking, more likely with the torrid possibilities racing through his mind. By the time they got to the frigid corridor outside Arthur’s flat, Merlin was hot under the collar and twitching with anticipation. Arthur was not helping with his teasing glances. He caught Merlin looking and made a big show of licking his divine lips.

“That’ll dry your lips out,”Merlin said automatically. Shit, when had he become his mother?

Arthur looked amused, not breaking stride as he produced chapstick. “I’ll just have to take care of that, then, won’t I, _Mer_ -lin?” He made sure Merlin could see him slicking his lips, hollowing his cheeks till his obscene cheekbones were pinpointed, then pursing his in a big show. “There,” Arthur said, brows lifting. ”All done.”

Damn Arthur, he knew exactly what he was doing to Merlin. Merlin could play that game too. He  tossed his head back with a “I want some,” and snatched the chapstick from a surprised Arthur. “Thank you...Ouch!!”  Merlin’s plan backfired somewhat when the menthol stung his lips; they must have been scraped from the broken pen, even though there wasn’t any blood. He clamped his lips together in mortified embarrassment, but only ended up biting himself and yelping out in real pain.

His cry echoed loudly along the passage, making Arthur jump. “What? What’s the matter with you?” Arthur said. He pulled Merlin towards him and jammed his keys into a door.

Merlin rubbed his sore lips mournfully. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “It hurt, then I bit myself.” Arthur threw his head back in a bark of laughter.

"Is that it?” Arthur said when he had finally stopped shaking, heedless of Merlin's glowering. “Shall I kiss it better?” They stood pressed together inside Arthur’s flat now, and Merlin could smell Arthur again.

"Not a child," Merlin said as clearly and crisply as his smarting lips would permit.

"I can see that." Arthur closed the door, forcing Merlin to move inwards and squash up against an immobile Arthur.

"The shirt? You said I could borrow one?" Arthur felt very solid and comfortable, and Merlin stumbled when he stepped away.

 "Hmm? Oh yes, right. This way."

Merlin snuck a look around Arthur’s bedroom. Wasn't this a little intimate? The small bedside light Arthur flicked on added to the cosy feeling. A mountain of books were stacked next to the bed, and the duvet was neatly folded.

"Here you go, it should fit you fine," Arthur shook a shirt out and the thought flashed through Merlin's mind that he wasn't the only one staring at other people's bodies.

"Thanks. I'll get it back to you and clean it and all," Merlin stood there, shirt limp in his hand. Arthur didn't move.

"Thanks," Merlin repeated. Arthur stayed exactly where he was, looking at Merlin with an undecipherable expression and unnerving Merlin so much he fumbled when he tried to undo his shirt buttons.  

"Are you planning to stand there and watch?" Merlin said. He sounded more coy than he'd intended.

"Certainly not," Arthur said, his voice silky and rich. "It's obvious you'll need some help taking your clothes off." Merlin gulped and clutched the shirt tightly. "Only if you'd like some assistance, of course. But you seem to be doing a piss poor job of it so far."

"I am, am I?" Merlin found he'd been backed against a wall. His own voice was thick with his native accent, and had dropped to a low burr to match Arthur’s. He could feel Arthur's body heat, and at such proximity, the full force of Arthur's charisma and magnetic life force hit him, calling out to him and brokering no refusal. His own body responded immediately, and he'd arched his back before he even realised it.

Arthur put his hands on Merlin's chest right over the inky patch. Merlin could only see shadows; the shape of Arthur's big hands contrasted against the white of his shirt. Merlin looked up to meet Arthur's gaze, intense and questioning, and lowered his lashes in reply. _Yes, please._

 For someone with such large hands, Arthur's fingers were surprisingly amble. He had Merlin's buttons undone in a blink of an eye, and Merlin couldn't resist nosing at the head of soft blond hair bent low over him. Arthur made a small sound and swept downwards and Merlin watched transfixed. It was like he was having an out-of-body experience, watching Arthur undress someone else.  

 That only lasted  till  Arthur pressed against Merlin's bare chest; the touch made Merlin startle, and he made a sound that Arthur must have felt, for  Arthur stroked across and down Merlin's flank, seemingly fascinated by the heaving of Merlin's chest. His shirt hung open and Merlin could hardly breathe looking at Arthur part them to trace the curve of Merlin's chest or draw circles right on top of his sternum.

Merlin wanted more. More touching, more contact, more of Arthur.

He willed his hands to move from where they'd been planted against the wall, and focused enough to pull Arthur to him. Arthur resisted, to Merlin's annoyance, until Arthur said breathlessly, "Wait. I need to..." Arthur undid Merlin's trousers, and then his own.  

"Now you can have me where you wanted," Arthur resumed his position and purred into Merlin's ear, making him shiver. Arthur felt him and went on, "you like this, do you? Like hearing me? You like hearing what a sexy thing you are, how hot you are, all fair and trembly? I had my eye on you the minute you came into my class."

"Less talking, more action," Merlin snaked his arms around Arthur's waist and drew him in. "Touch me, touch my... Like just now."

Arthur smoothed down Merlin's shirt, now all rumpled, dragging his fingers over the strip of skin down the middle. He pushed his thumbs under the fabric and circled Merlin's nipples. It was bliss, and Merlin expressly this loudly and clearly, increasingly in volume together with Arthur's pace and intensity. His cock was rock hard and he thrust up, vainly straining for friction. Arthur tweaked his nipples, tugging at them harder the more Merlin jerked.

"Arthur!" Merlin exhaled, long and hard.

"I've not even really begun," Arthur's final pull was painful and Merlin cried out, once in pain, and then again in surprise when Arthur latched onto his sore nubs and sucked, and yet again when Arthur pressed his palm into his erection. Arthur nibbled, then soothed, hurting and calming like a seasoned pro, licking around his turgid peaks; everything Arthur's marvellous tongue was doing, coupled with his insistent kneading of Merlin's dick, was driving Merlin to distraction.

He cracked open an eye to see Arthur bent over, working furiously on him; it was more than he could bear. Merlin staggered, grappling for purchase with little success. He probably would have slid onto the floor if Arthur had not manhandled him and yanked him up with a growl. Suddenly Merlin was flat on the bed, his shirt scrunching against smooth sheets.

"There, now you just have to lie back and think of England," Arthur changed direction, licking upwards, pressing the flat of his tongue all the way from Merlin's belly button, past his clenched abs, along his breastbone, then all along his neck, swirling and lingering at his collarbone. Merlin twitched and murmured in delight; he was anchored by Arthur’s steady weight and by his trousers cinched at his ankles, not that he has any intention of moving.

"Stay up here," Merlin managed to say. He rubbed his cheek against rough stubble and relished the slight burn. He could smell Arthur so strongly now it was like a drug, a clean and fresh and masculine scent blanketing him, wafting up from the man himself above and the bed linen under him. Somewhere along the way, Arthur had discarded his own shirt, and the sensation of bare skin against him was glorious (Arthur’s bare skin, his brain whispered, Arthur and no one else). The small lamp cast everything in a dreamlike shadow and Merlin drifted between the surreal scene of Arthur laid out on top of him, and the darkness of his own world as waves of pleasure rolled over him.

Merlin tried to find Arthur's mouth, but Arthur seemed intent on ravishing his neck instead. He's not remiss in his attentions to Merlin's dick, however, grinding himself hard against Merlin's member. Their pants were still on, and it shouldn't be so thrilling and so stimulating, but it was, it really was. They frotted against each other in growing desperation, but neither wanted to pull apart long enough to get anything else off. It didn't matter, Merlin was going to come soon anyway, very soon.

Arthur stopped licking to focus on thrusting, holding himself on strong arms, lying in the vee of Merlin's legs. Merlin grappled at Arthur's bum, eager to feel the fleshy orbs he’d been dreaming of.  Arthur huffed at the initial grab, but settled into the touch. Merlin almost let go when Arthur added a wiggle and a twist of his hips, crashing their clothed cocks together forcefully; almost let go, but doesn't. Merlin held onto Arthur for dear life, and revelled in Arthur’s mutterings and grunts.

“So… sexy Merlin, lying here, just for me,” Arthur’s voice is hoarse, his words nearly indecipherable. “Looking at me… there’s something about you…”

Arthur slowed down as he spoke and Merlin meowed at being left tottering on the precipice. “Arthur, come ON! Don’t stop…” Finally, Arthur reared up and ground his dick down hard, simultaneously swooping his head down and kissing Merlin fiercely on the lips; Merlin was tipped over the edge. He came with a muffled cry, lips locked onto Arthur's and hands clenched firmly around Arthur’s suddenly slack body. His dick jerked painfully in its confines and a flood of stickiness gathered around it.

 _Oh. Urgh. Sticky._  

When the room had stopped spinning and he could move again, Merlin rolled Arthur’s dead weight off him with some difficulty. He couldn’t resist brushing Arthur’s damp fringe; when Arthur didn’t stir, he moved onto combing his fingers through the blond strands. “Looks like you need a change of clothes as well,” Merlin said. ”And maybe a shower.”

Arthur came back to life with a huge stretch that expanded his ample chest and pulled his stomach into a flat plane. He reminded Merlin of a big lion uncoiling, easy grace and muscular power rippling to the surface . Merlin eyed the unfamiliar lines and curves of his profile and regretfully turned away. Lunchtime must be over by now. Where was that shirt Arthur had handed to him?

“You might need to go without pants,” Arthur said, voice rusty. He laughed at Merlin’s face and tossed him a balled up plastic package. ”Here! Disposable pants.”

“Ruined shirt, yucky pants,” Merlin dropped the items into a bag with a sigh.  

“But a brilliant lunch break, no?” Arthur hustled them both off to freshen up and within minutes, they were hurrying back to their offices. The fresh air cleared Merlin’s head rapidly and he felt almost normal again. This is where he should make polite excuses to leave Arthur’s bewitching presence, go sit in his cubicle and mull over what the hell just happened. Merlin was a stranger to the etiquette of shagging almost complete strangers-cum-colleagues who offered you their shirts. With luck, he could avoid Arthur while he got his head screwed back right way up.

“So, Merlin, now about that post-observation discussion…” Arthur leaned in and purred into Merlin’s ear.

Uh oh. Shit, Merlin was so fucked.

 

=====


End file.
